


you put my head in such a flurry

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: EDIT: there is a little nsfw so i upped the rating to T, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, a little bit of messing around, hux wants attention, kylo is a little bit oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t start as a personal thing. It really doesn’t. </p><p>Prompt: hux competing with the knights of ren for kylo's time & affection</p>
            </blockquote>





	you put my head in such a flurry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altilis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/gifts).



> Happy Fic-Exchange! This only took me forever because I've been so swamped lately, but please do enjoy!
> 
> Part of the Kylux Fic Exchange, this work is gifted to altilis-- I took the prompt: "hux competing with the knights of ren for kylo's time & affection" 
> 
> Stay tuned to see if he's successful! <3

It doesn’t start as a personal thing. It really doesn’t. 

The general is briefing Kylo on upcoming plans for the Base’s continued construction when it happens-- just as he’s explaining his favorite piece, too-- months and months of careful research, planning, testing, and assembly for the superweapon that Starkiller will soon be known for; Pulling energy from the sun itself to fuel a beam infinitely stronger than that of the Deathstar of old. He can feel pride surging in his chest as he explains each minute detail, and his hope for it. The weapon will take time to be ready, to be sure, but he’s certain that the first test of its strength will come soon-- 

And then there’s that insistent beeping coming from Ren’s communicator. It takes a horrific, long moment for Hux to register that he’s being interrupted before he turns sharply on his heel, a brows furrowed. But Ren is already standing, and only mutters something that barely sounds like an apology, sweeping out of the room in a moment.

He’s barely able to hold together his steely, calm demeanor as he watches Ren’s retreating back, and for a moment, he’d like nothing more than to hold him by the scruff and give him a good talking to about respect.

 

(When it happens again during their dinner, suffice to say, it’s surprising that Hux hasn’t crushed his wineglass.)

 

They’re in Hux’s quarters the next time it happens-- It’s evening, not quite the dead of night, but then again, it’s always dark in space. The room is dim, barely illuminated by the red light in the corner of the room-- but Hux can see Ren writhing beneath him, even in such darkness. He’s bare, a long expanse of flesh yet to be conquered by punishing lips and fingertips. He’s begging-- ‘Touch me,’ ‘Take me,’ ‘I need you’, and Hux knows he hates to, but that’s their game, isn’t it? The desperation gives him terrible thrills, and he loves it. The vulnerability of being reduced to a mere man as the rest of them. 

“Again, Ren,” he says, unable to control the breathy quality his voice takes on. His hand teases lower down the Knight’s thigh, a thumb brushing jutting hip-bone. Kylo groans, his face contorting into a delicious snarl as he rolls his hips up, silently demanding more. Hux only smirks, his lips curling up, catlike, as he leans over him, nipping at his ear. “Again.” 

“--Give it to me.” he growls, his voice taking on a whiny quality. “Give it to me.” 

And then Hux is descending upon him, lips meeting cool skin, catching it between his teeth as he travels downwards-- 

The bloody communicator is going off just as Hux’s lips find Kylo’s base, and he pauses angrily, before gripping the Knight’s thighs to keep him in place; But he’s already sitting up, swinging his legs up and over Hux’s head as he draws away, growling.  
“I need to take this.” Ren says groggily, pulling a sheet off of the bed and standing, walking to the bathroom to take the call. 

Hux doesn’t need to be in the same room to know it’s one of the Knights of Ren-- they’ve been more insistent than ever as of late. The thought leaves a sour taste in Hux’s mouth, although it’s quite possible that’s simply the lingering taste of Kylo’s skin. 

It’s the better part of an hour before Ren returns, and by then, it’s clear he’s gone soft. So has Hux, but it’s done nothing to cool the frustration burning inside him. Despite the hour, he decides to take a shower in the hopes of releasing his frustration. The water is hot, too hot, possibly, but the burn does something to alleviate it. He goes to bed bitter, back to Ren. If his bed partner picks up on his frustration, he doesn’t show it. 

 

 

“Quite the issue, General.” Phasma is saying the next day at their private lunch-- High ranking officials don’t dine with the common rabble, but they certainly don’t dine alone (Save for, perhaps, the very source of Hux’s frustration. Then again, he’s never really fit in with any of them). She raises a single blonde eyebrow, looking far too bemused for Hux’s liking. “You sound almost like my wife.” 

“I was unaware that you were married,” Hux says almost venomously, or perhaps, that’s just how he sounds on the regular. Today it’s a bit more pronounced.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, General, but suppose that’s beside the point,” she picks at her sandwich before casting her glance back at her lunch partner. She seems to bite back a comment before she starts, “I would suggest...making it disappear it if it weren’t core to his own personal operations.” 

“That’s exactly the issue,” he replies, expression souring further. “These interruptions are...not. It was a rather dry update, from what I overheard last night. It could have waited for morning. He could have left a message,” he pokes his food with a plastic fork, turning it over and crushing it beneath the prongs, rather like a child. “It would seem that the Knights of Ren are too incompetent to understand time differences.” Phasma only raises her eyebrows at him, before turning her attention back to her own food. 

And then she pauses, as if struck by a sudden idea. Slowly, she looks up, the ghost of a smirk playing around her lips. 

“General, there are fortifications on a nearby occupied planet that need your attention,” she says, her expression growing grim. “Lord Ren would do well to oversee them, as well. However, off-planet communication with mobile comms has proved difficult on this planet.”

It takes half a beat for Hux to realize what she’s suggesting. After a moment, he folds his hands, tilting his head in recognition. 

“Do go on.” 

 

It takes a small amount of convincing to get the Knight to come along for the inspection, but by the end of the next day, they’ve set out in a small ship for inspection of the planet. It’s not the best of circumstances, nor is it the most comfortable, but Hux is the sort of person who gets what he wants, regardless of the costs. 

A good portion of the day is spent patrolling the base, making sure that everything is up to scratch-- it’s something that Hux takes pride in, and something that’s earned him favor with high command before. Now he’s near the top of the metaphorical food chain, it he relishes every moment of it. Blessedly, things seem to be in order-- though Ren has been quiet most of the day, relatively bored with current circumstances. At some point, he wanders off, and for a few hours, Hux is left to continue surveying. 

Evening falls early on the planet, and the General, finished with his rounds, seeks out Ren. 

Hux finds him in the base’s training area-- it’s small, and basic at best, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it-- He watches as Ren, stripped of his mask and most of his robes, goes through the motions of an attack, step by step. It’s a deadly dance, and increases in speed each time he goes through it, sweat dribbling down his forehead and making dark strands of hair cling to his face and neck. Entrancing. 

It’s the better part of twenty minutes before Ren seems to notice he’s there, towel in hand. When he does, he pauses, sheathing his saber. 

“Hux.” he says flatly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He stays in place, dark brows furrowing gently, but not altogether displeased.

“Ren,” the man in question replies, pushing up gently from his place against the wall, sauntering forwards with an expression like a pleased cat. He’s finally got Ren alone, and that’s something-- for the first time in days, no distractions. “If you’re quite finished waving that thing around, dinner is waiting, and our quarters prepared.” he folds his hands, watching the Knight as he approaches, retrieving his robes and helmet from where they’d been discarded on the floor. Hux offers the towel to him, and Ren takes it, none-too-gently. When he speaks, his voice is rough and tired. 

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks, wiping down his face. There’s an impatience, suspicion in his voice. He’s more clever than he looks, Hux ought to know that by now. 

“For an inspection,” the General intones, and it twists something in his guts, deep below the surface. Ren would be far too pleased with his jealousy, and it disgusts even himself to recognize it. His face pinches as his mind prickles. “For a greater sense of responsibility.” 

“You’re lying.” And Hux can feel the tendrils of Ren’s consciousness creeping into his. He fights it, making a face. 

“Stop that.” 

“Tell me the truth.” Ren takes a step closer. 

“I have.” 

“There’s more to it. I can feel it.” Another step.

Hux wrinkles his nose. “There is not.” 

“You can tell me, you know,” Another.

“Careful, Ren.” 

 

Kylo is in his space now, and he can feel warmth radiating off of him, the cool brush of his breath against his cheek. 

“There was a reason,” 

“--Your blasted Knights,” Hux grits out, and then grips the collar of his undershirt, twisting it in a leather-clad hand. He pulls him forwards with a jerk, and then their lips are crashing together, sloppy, hot, teeth and tongues, hungry. Ren catches a fistful of his perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it terribly, before running long fingers through it. The kiss gradually loses its heat, and sweetens-- slow, soft kissing that would usually leave Hux retching-- but he melts instead, catching the back of Ren’s neck with his leather-clad hand. When they part, Hux releases a soft, shaky sigh. 

“Not so hard, was it?” the Knight teases, the ghost a smirk playing around his full lips.  
“Quarters, now.” Hux replies-- but he’s got him now. 

Right where he wants him.


End file.
